


Mr. & Mr. Smith

by heartsdesire456



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Mr. & Mrs. Smith Fusion, Assassin Clint, Double Life, M/M, Married Couple, Past Sexual Assault, Romance, SHIELD Agent Phil, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Clint Smith live the life of a modern, suburban couple the same as anybody else. They have a nice house, they drive expensive but conservative cars, and both have pretty busy careers they're dedicated to. Phil Smith is a pharmaceutical sales representative who often travels for business with little warning and is sometimes gone for weeks for big sales events. Clint Smith, thankfully, understands his husband's dedication to his work be cause he, too, spends a lot of time traveling as a free lance photographer.</p><p>... only Phil Coulson, an Agent of SHIELD who hides an entire secret life of espionage and danger from his husband, has a situation on hand that involves an assassination plot, the Black Widow assassin, and troubles shaped like an impossible to track assassin known as Hawkeye that might just ruin his hopes for an eighth anniversary surprise for his husband.</p><p>... and Clint Smith, formerly Barton, is also sometimes known as the infamous Hawkeye assassin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. & Mr. Smith

**Author's Note:**

> So a week or so ago I realized I REALLY want Mr. & Mrs. Smith AUs in pretty much every fandom I read. There are always that one ship in each fandom that fits the characterization needed for the trope, and I was SHOCKED to find there wasn't already a Clint/Phil one because IT IS SO OBVIOUS!
> 
> And in the last two days... this happened.

Phil’s phone beeped and Clint looked up to see Phil checking it. “Office?” Clint asked, and Phil nodded, brows furrowing some.

“I need to go in.” He stood up, laying his napkin down beside his barely touched eggs. “I’ll call you about dinner,” Phil said, giving Clint a pat on the arm as he passed him too quickly for Clint to even turn and look at him, nonetheless give him a kiss.

Clint bit back a sigh – or any other outward sign of emotion – and nodded. “Have a good day,” he called, and Phil gave him one more smile as he picked up his briefcase at the kitchen door.

“You, too,” he said, and then in another breath he was out the door.

Clint watched him go and within a minute he could see Phil’s Volvo backing out of the garage. He watched until the car disappeared from view and looked back at Phil’s uneaten breakfast as a wave of heaviness came over him. Clint really had no idea when things became like this. 

When Clint met Phil, just over eight years ago, things had been just incredible. Clint had met Phil in Mumbai during Holi. Phil had been in the city for business the week before and had decided to stay to enjoy the festivities. They met the night before Holi at a party for Holika in a park not far from the hotel where Phil was staying. Clint ran into him – literally - while several people passed him around as their dance partner and Phil simply caught him by the arms and fell into the dancing as well. Phil and Clint spent much of the night talking, since they were the only Americans there, and were intrigued to find they were both from Arlington. Clint hadn’t been home in a while, but he and Phil still had plenty to reminisce about. 

When it got late, Clint nor Phil felt like going their separate ways, so they ended up talking into the early hours and fell asleep with many of the others right there around the dying fire. The next day, they woke early to an attack of kids with waterguns of vibrant colors and spent the whole day joining in the celebrations all through the streets. After a day together enjoying the colors and the music and the food and the joy that was Holi, when the others started to disperse to go sober up and get clean before the more family based night festivities, Clint found himself going back to Phil’s hotel with him.

The first time Clint and Phil kissed was in the elevator on their way up to Phil’s room, and Clint couldn’t even remember who kissed whom, because the moment they found privacy, it was exactly what they had been building up to since almost the moment they met. That night and for the next three days and nights, Clint and Phil barely looked away from each other the whole time. Spending the days exploring the city and the nights making love until they could barely move were one of Clint’s fondest memories. 

When it came time to part, for Phil to return to Virginia and for Clint to continue on his trip to Taipei, Clint only made it as far as the hotel lobby before he decided he couldn’t just leave and went back to Phil. They knew it was ridiculous, but Clint cancelled the rest of his trip and went home with Phil. Clint lived in Phil’s apartment with him for only two weeks before they decided at random to get married and buy a house in a neighborhood.

Looking back from where Clint was now, washing dishes before he left for work, he knew that the two of them back then would have never imagined the life they would settle into. Clint had felt so much overwhelming passion with Phil when they first met and married, and for the first year or so of living the suburban life, that passion stayed. The next few years, things settled down, but in a comfortable, domestic way that had been almost as good as the wild passion.

However, the last year at least had been downright depressing. For the past four years of their marriage, Clint and Phil had become more and more distant from each other, but in the last year, Clint honestly couldn’t help but wonder how much worse it could get. He couldn’t remember the last time Phil had kissed him on the mouth and not a quick brush to the cheek when he was on his way to work or when he first got home. Clint knew how long it had been since they had sex, because their anniversary was in a week and the last time they had sex was a tipsy tumble after the bottle of wine they shared on their last anniversary. 

Clint let out a humorless laugh as he turned off the water and turned to head to the bedroom to get ready for work. He was thirty-seven years old, married to a forty-nine year old, and they were already the type of old, married couple that didn’t have sex but once a year. As he opened his closet and then pushed at the upper left corner of the panel in the back, sliding open the secret compartment to get out his bow and quiver, he couldn’t help but feel a pang at the reminder that this was exactly why his marriage was becoming so stale. Clint slung his bow onto his back and checked his quiver before pulling out his all-black outfit and dark tinted goggles with a heavy sigh.

It was hard to keep his marriage alive when, for eight years, he’s been living a lie and hiding from his husband the fact that Clint Smith had secretly been the infamous assassin Hawkeye all along.

~

Phil Coulson (or Smith, to those not in SHIELD) really hated being an Agent of SHIELD sometimes.

He’d been called in half an hour early, meaning he had barely a few bites of breakfast before coming in just in time to discover that the Black Widow assassin had been spotted in DC. All morning was spent running around trying to coordinate and confirm what data they had and whether or not they had any idea who she might be targeting. By the time they determined they could do nothing until the facial recognition search finished, Phil was starving and tired. He headed down to the mess to grab something to eat and took his Styrofoam plate with whatever shit they were serving that day up to the Director’s office.

The secretary didn’t even try to stop Phil from going into the office marked ‘Director Fury’ she was so used to this kind of thing. When he walked in, Nick was still on the phone, so he sat down in one of the chairs across from Nick, pulled the chair up to the edge of Nick’s desk, and took a look at what he’d be eating today. When Nick hung up, he held up a ten. “Spaghetti?” he asked, and Phil smirked, turning the plate to show him what the Styrofoam lid had hidden.

“Meatloaf,” he said and Nick cursed and handed him the ten. “You always get it wrong,” Phil said, pocketing the bill.

Nick sat back. “So, the Black Widow is in town.”

Phil groaned. “No work talk for at least however long it takes me to eat,” he pleaded, stabbing a bite of the most unappetizing looking meatloaf in the history of meatloaf. “Didn’t even get to eat breakfast,” he grumbled unhappily.

Nick chuckled. “God forbid you break the mundane breakfast routine,” he teased and Phil glared playfully. “How is Mrs. Smith?” he asked, stealing Phil’s apple to toss back and forth from hand to hand.

Phil chortled. “How many times have I told you to stop calling my husband ‘the missus’ or any other variation of wife-related terminology?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Have I once listened to you in the past eight years, Coulson?” he asked, and Phil gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “I would invite myself over for dinner some night soon, but if I had to run out with this Black Widow business, I don’t know what lies I’d spin for-“ He frowned. “What the hell is my cover with your husband again?” he asked.

“Pharmaceutical sales manager,” Phil reminded him and Nick nodded.

“Right, right. Well, I don’t know what lies I could spin for why a pharmaceutical sales manager had to rush out at eight at night to go do,” Nick finished. “So I guess I’ll have to invite myself over once we’re finished with this one.”

Phil cringed. “All this ruined my plans to go buy him an anniversary gift during my lunch sometime this week.”

Nick snorted. “What, does eight years suddenly mean your standing, annual flower order isn’t enough?”

“More like we’ve had four global crises in the past three months and the longest I’ve got to spend in the same room with him while not sleeping is the hour and a half we were stuck answering questions for the exterminator who insisted on having both of us give accounts of the roach infestation in the garage,” Phil said flatly. “A month ago.” He shook his head. “Hell, in the past month we’ve only been home at the same time for a week and a half combined. I’ve had to go out on missions so often and he’s had so many out of town photo shoots we keep missing each other.”

Nick hummed and shrugged. “It’s probably for the best. You would have had to explain the bruised ribs if he’d been in town that week.” 

Phil winced at the memory of the AIM operative that had hit him in the side with the leg off a chair. It hadn’t been a pleasant next few days. “Probably so.” 

“Look,” Nick said as he leaned back in his chair, holding up a hand. “You knew things would get tough one day when you signed up for this marriage. You know damn well why so many of us are divorced. The fact you’re still married and still have your husband’s trust really relies on you marrying someone that travels just as often as you do, and I’d say you’re pretty lucky for that.”

Phil smiled softly, nodding as he looked at his wedding ring. “Yeah, I am that,” he said before continuing on with a new topic, eager to stop thinking about how little he’d seen of Clint lately.

When Phil got back to his office, however, he couldn’t help but open his desk drawer and unlock the bio-locked box he kept a few things too important to be left where someone ransacking his office might find them. He pulled out the photo of Clint he kept in there and felt a sharp pang in his chest. The photo was one he had taken himself with Clint’s camera that Clint himself had developed later. It was a photo of Clint at Holi in Mumbai, the first day they knew each other, with pink and blue powder on his face that brought out the blue in his bright eyes as he beamed at the camera. 

Phil tapped the edge of the frame and shook his head, putting the photo back in the box before shutting it, making sure it was locked, and shutting the drawer. He leaned back, looking to the ceiling of his office, and sighed miserably. Fury was right, he had known going in what the success rate for marriages for Agents of SHIELD was like, and he had, admittedly, married a man he had known for three weeks on a crazy whim. Phil knew that he had one of the longest-lasting marriages amongst his co-workers, even the ones that worked together, and he often got asked what the secret was, and he answered that it was just finding the man he was meant to love.

But the truth, Phil had to admit to himself, was that it was easier to lie and hide and pass off a whole false identity to someone when you both had demanding jobs that meant traveling without any warning, spending whole weeks not seeing each other and only communicating via email, and not spending enough time together for arguments to even get started in the first place. 

He and Clint seemed to have the perfect marriage to his coworkers because they never fought, but Phil almost wished he and Clint could argue over something because that meant they spent enough time together that they were able to come to a disagreement over something. When the first married it seemed they had so much in common and they shared so much passion, but these days, Phil was always too wrapped up in thinking about missions to pay much attention to Clint talking about what he was photographing any given week, and Phil couldn’t tell Clint about any of the excitement in his life, so he had to make shit up about copier jamming as his highlight of the week and the conversation pretty much died straight away, leaving them to eat the rest of dinner in silence before Phil washed up and Clint went to the basement to develop some photos in the darkroom Phil had painstakingly built for Clint as a wedding present when the first married.

Phil hoped that maybe, if they could get this Black Widow mess over with soon, he could still manage a ‘better-late-than-never’ anniversary surprise for Clint to remind him (and to remind Phil himself) that they got married for a reason and it was a good enough reason to still be together, no matter how dull their marriage had become lately.

~

Clint was taking some photos in Alexandria to make sure he had something to develop after a week of working on a job – his REAL job - when he felt his phone vibrate. He nearly dropped his camera because it wasn’t his Samsung that was vibrating. He let his camera rest on his thigh as he reached down into his boot and pulled out the burner Motorola he kept for work and answered it with a clipped. “Talk.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Amazing Hawkeye,” a familiar tone drawled and Clint stood up, smiling brightly.

“Nat?” he asked excitedly. Clint hadn’t seen in nearly a year and hadn’t heard from her in a few months.

“The one and only,” Natasha replied. “I was wondering if you would help me with this job,” she started and Clint moved to sit on the lip of the fountain he’d been photographing. 

“I’m listening.”

Natasha chuckled. “Well, I have a sixty-thousand dollar job on a congressman. None other than Senator David Greene from North Carolina. However, SHIELD caught wind of me as soon as I got off the train.”

Clint stilled. “Did you shake them?” he asked worriedly.

“Oh yeah, easily,” she assured him. “However, I could use some backup for when I make the actual hit. Some eyes up high, if you catch my drift. I’ll cut you fifteen for it,” she offered. 

Clint hesitated. “Does Greene fit my profile?” he asked uneasily. 

Clint made some mistakes in his past, but after too many years of guilt, Clint had changed his policy on making hits. He wouldn’t kill anybody that he didn’t think needed killing. He knew it was a skewed sense of morality, but he just slept easier knowing that the person he killed wasn’t a good person. Natasha didn’t have his same moral hindrances, so she would take out anybody she got paid well enough to take out. In all his time with her, the only jobs she’d ever backed out on were small children, even if she had no problem at all killing someone in front of their small children. Clint didn’t question her professional choices because, really, he didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to judging another assassin for doing their job.

Natasha whistled. “Oh man does he ever,” she answered. “I already checked him out before I called you. Just last year Greene had a male intern who showed up at the hospital, claiming Greene raped him, but before the police could take a statement, he mysteriously had a change of heart and denied he ever said anything, so nothing got out to the press or the cops. He quit his job and left DC a week later, so either he got paid off or warned off of telling the truth.”

Clint made a disgusted sound and shook his head. “Yep, definitely going to take pleasure in helping on this one. Only thing that makes me wanna kill somebody more is child abuse.”

“The intern was only eighteen if that helps?” Natasha offered and Clint let out a laugh.

“Hey, it’s close enough. Sure. When are we gonna get together and make some plans?” he asked, then listened closely to file away her answered date, time, and location before hanging up, packing up his camera bag, and heading home to get in a little time to clean his bow before Phil got home from work.

~

Phil ended up being late for dinner. It was fairly uncommon for him to not get time to call Clint and warn him he’d be home late, so he got home ready to apologize, only to find that Clint had simply left his dinner sitting on the counter and had pulled one of the notes from the refrigerator door for the grocery list off and left it beside his plate to tell him he was down in the darkroom, would probably be there late, and to not wait up. It also warned that Clint would be leaving early so he would leave Phil’s breakfast in the microwave for when he got up. 

Phil looked at his dinner and felt a pang of sadness as he grabbed the plate to microwave it so he could at least eat warm food. He looked at the note and wondered if this was what they were to the point of. Marriage via post-it (or grocery list paper, whatever). 

That night, he had more trouble falling asleep than usual. He was used to the other side of the bed being empty, it wasn’t uncommon for Clint to be gone for weeks sometimes, but tonight the bed felt especially big and cold. The next morning, he half-woke to the feeling of Clint pressing a kiss to his forehead and sliding out of bed. “Mmmm, Clint?” he mumbled, only to hear a shushing in reply.

“Go back to sleep, Hon,” Clint whispered, brushing a hand over the back of Phil’s head. That simple touch made a calm sensation wash over Phil and, as he slipped back under, he hoped that was a sign that things might get better someday soon.

~

Clint smirked as he looked down the sights of his bow at the exit to the restaurant Greene was having lunch at. He could see Natasha in the square below. Her plan was to stab him in the crowded square so that by the time someone realized he was hurt and on the ground, he would be dead and she would have disappeared into the flow of pedestrians. Clint was her eyes from above to warn her if anything went off the plans.

Every day for the past week, Natasha had observed that Greene finished lunch like clockwork, so he didn’t have any worries. He was pretty sure he was about to make the easiest fifteen grand he’d made in years just playing the lookout to an assassination. 

“So, tell me more about Phil,” Natasha prompted over the radio, since they still had ten minutes to go. “You haven’t really mentioned him in any of the conversations we’ve had the last few months. Is he still doing well?”

Clint groaned. “He’s doing fine. Work seems good, since the most distressing thing he’s had happen in the past few months is tripping going up an escalator and cutting his knee at the airport in Denver. He’s still going to the gym so he’s healthy as always.”

“For a man his age, that’s probably a good thing,” she teased, and Clint made a face. She’d been teasing him since she found out he’d married a man eleven years his elder. “Seriously, think how saggy his man-boobs would be if he didn’t work out-“

“Hey,” Clint complained. “He’s forty-nine, not seventy-nine.”

“Last time we talked about this, you said he was forty-six and already balding,” she accused.

“Phil is not balding, okay? Just… his hairline is a little higher than it was when we met. Not much, just a little thinner around the temples. God, I should’ve never mentioned that.” If one thing was for sure, no matter how boring their marriage had become, Clint definitely still had an extremely attractive husband. “You’re just jealous I’m still married to him and haven’t left him for you,” he teased, making kissy noises over the comms.

Natasha made a disgusted tone and casually and discretely flipped him off under the guise of straightening her sunglasses, earning a chuckle from Clint. “You wish you- oh shit,” she muttered suddenly.

“What is it?” Clint asked quickly, looking in the direction of her sight line.

“Oh _shit_. Clint, seems I’m not the only one who heard knows about my hit out for Greene. Anton Volchek, my two o’clock.” Clint followed her eyes and cursed when he spotted him.

Anton Volchek was one of many vulture assassins, as Clint thought of them, who listened out for hits going down and followed the person hired to do the job, took them out of the equation somehow, and killed their mark then collected the pay they were meant to get from the employer. Vultures like Volchek were bad for business and dangerous, since they never had a problem killing the competition. “Nat, he’s coming your way.”

Natasha took in a sharp breath. “Clint, I’m pinned down. There is a cop twenty feet from me. I don’t have a gun on me since I was going to stab Greene and didn’t want another weapon in case I needed to duck into the art museum behind us to hide out. If he takes a shot-“

“He won’t take a shot,” Clint said simply, already drawing his bow. He knew it was going to ruin their job, but it was Natasha’s safety or money, and Nat was the only real friend he’d had in twenty years.

Clint released and didn’t even watch to see if his arrow stuck its target – he knew it would – before he unstrung his bow, put it in the case disguised as a cello case, and ran for the roof access stairs behind him. He’d change out of his black tactical suit once in a blind zone in the stairwell, stuff his clothes and the black tinted goggles he wore into the case with his bow, then exit the building like a cellist on his way to rehearsals.

When he got outside, comms already disabled and in his case, he made it down the block before Natasha passed him going back towards the square where the screams were coming from and nodded to him, sharing a small grateful smile as they continued past each other as if they were total strangers.

~

Phil was just finishing lunch in his office when he got the summons to an emergency meeting with the other senior agents involved with tracking and finding the Black Widow. As soon as he got to the meeting room, Fury clicked on the table and the screen behind him lit up with the photograph of a man lying on a brick ground with an arrow sticking out of his chest.

“It seems Hawkeye is in town, too,” Nick announced, and Phil flopped into his seat with a groan.

“Shit, I better double up on the flowers this year, huh?” he mumbled so that only Nick heard him. He knew he’d be in the office all night and tomorrow was his and Clint’s anniversary.

A woman raised her hand. “Director Fury, are we positive this is Hawkeye? We haven’t had an issue with him anywhere closer than Memphis in over eight years. He hasn’t been on our radar this close to SHIELD HQ since he realized we were on his tail in Asia. The last known Hawkeye hit was three weeks ago in Italy.”

Nick nodded. “I know, but that, combined with the fact that Anton Chekov – the dead guy – is known for poaching assassinations, suggests that Hawkeye, Black Widow, and a poaching assassin all in DC means there’s a big target made of dollar signs on somebody important’s back.”

Phil shook his head. “If we don’t figure out who it is and who wants them dead, we won’t only lose the Black Widow again, but we’ll have more and more assassins in a city full of people that are hated by at least a few dozen people.”

“Exactly,” Fury said. “Right now, our target is still the Black Widow, but we have to keep in mind that Hawkeye is out there.”

“Sir,” another man asked. “Why are we only targeting the Black Widow if Hawkeye is the one we’ve actually seen already kill someone here?”

Nick shook his head. “Nobody’s ever seen him,” he said simply. “Or her, I guess it could be a woman,” he amended. “We call the assassin Hawkeye because that’s the only name we’ve ever heard, just like Black Widow, but unlike her, we’ve never caught sight of him. He arranges hits via messages, no face to face, he collects money through bank transfers rerouted several times, and he never misses so there are no survivors. He kills with a bow and arrow, though we suspect he has other kills under his belt with other weapons and we just can’t link him to it. He does so from a great distance since nobody is ever spotted with a bow in the area no matter how crowded the area is. This guy or girl is a ghost. All we have are bodies and his codename to prove he exists.” He gestured to the photo behind him. “So for now, we focus on the Black Widow. If we can capture her, maybe we can get the name of the target or the employer. The only way to stop this assassination is to make sure there is no money to be paid so the assassins take their upfront cut and move on to another job.”

~

When Clint got a text that Phil had to leave last minute to replace a sick coworker for a two-day conference, he honestly couldn’t help but be a little relieved. Tomorrow was their anniversary, but it was also the day Natasha had to go for broke and take Greene out however she could with nobody but Clint to help her. 

They planned out that they would simply wait until his car passed a spot with no traffic or security cameras, Clint waiting up in a tree would shoot out the tires, and Natasha would shoot Greene from the rooftops on the opposite side of the road. 

It wasn’t elegant and it left the driver as a witness, should he see Natasha firing, but Natasha’s face was known and she still managed to always slip anybody searching for her, so they had to hope this would work. 

~

Phil had just received an email from Clint thanking him for the beautiful flowers he’d received for their anniversary – the one Phil had spent running a search for the Black Widow instead with his husband – when Jasper slung open his office door and leaned in. 

“Someone made the hit.” Phil instantly jumped up and followed Jasper at a fast walk to the meeting room.

As soon as Phil got in, he looked to Nick. “Sir, what’s the situation?” he asked, circling the table. 

Nick looked grim. “Republican Senator Greene from North Carolina was shot and killed on his way home tonight.”

Phil sat and for the next few hours, everybody went over the photographs of the car – tires shot out and the glass of the rear drivers’ side window shattered out – and of the body of Senator Greene, who had one bullet to the temple. The driver had not been harmed and by the time police got there, there was absolutely no way to tell where the shooter or shooters had gone. After thoroughly going over the assassination, Fury gave them all a four hour break to go get some sleep with an extra hour for getting refreshed and finding something to eat before they were due back to start work on finding out who wanted Greene dead and why. 

Phil slept on his office couch often enough that it was as good as any rest he could hope for, he managed a bagel and coffee when he got up, he changed into one of the suits he kept in his office cabinet, and arrived early to settle in for a long day of trying to find out who ordered the assassination of a United States senator and what the ramifications of the assassination would be.

~

Clint watched as Natasha walked around his living room, looking at the photographs he had taken and hung up to give the house a more ‘suburban couple’ feel. He finished cleaning his bow and went to put his case in the back of his closet in the secret compartment. When he came back out, Natasha had found the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. “Hey,” he complained, glaring at her playfully. “That was meant to be for dinner before Phil had to go away for work.”

Natasha chuckled. “Then he won’t mind if we drink it,” she said, pouring two glasses. “So, your anniversary was yesterday?” she asked, walking around the island to look at the vase of purple flowers on the other side. “Eight years, right?”

Clint nodded, leaning back against the counter. “Yep. Eight loooong years,” he muttered, taking a long sip from his glass. Natasha raised an eyebrow and he sighed. “Sorry. Just… long time to be married,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh yeah? What happened to ‘the perfect man’?” she asked and he shrugged.

“He’s still pretty much perfect, I mean he’s handsome and always busy so he doesn’t question me going missing at the drop of a hat since he does too,” he started. “But he’s the perfect man I haven’t seen much of in the past month. I’ve spent more time away from him than with him and I’m not even sure when the last time we had an actual conversation was,” he muttered. He sighed, downed the rest of his glass in one go, then grabbed the bottle. “Things are just kinda boring.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “What the hell did you think would happen? You got married and became a suburban housewife. Last time you got married, you killed people together and you still got bored and divorced after a year,” she pointed out and Clint huffed.

“Do not compare _that_ to Phil,” he complained. “That was a horrible misjudgment based on a nice rack and common interests that include ‘mercenary’.” He waved his wine glass. “I don’t know. I’ve got a good life,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “I have a nice, safe home at least. I never had that before. Nobody would ever guess that I’m not really a photographer so nobody will come after me, nobody’s going to find me from my past, and I’m not going hungry anytime soon.” He smiled sadly, looking at their expensive appliances. “Maybe I am boring and suburban, but my life isn’t bad.”

Natasha shrugged. “Hey, you get to have what most of us never have or will. Maybe your life is boring, but eight years of boredom has to be nice compared to the twenty-nine years of fighting to survive you had before.”

Clint snorted, nodding. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, leaning out to clink their glasses together before they both downed their remaining wine. “Come on,” he said, grabbing the bottle. “I haven’t had _fun_ in forever. Let’s go find whatever shitty singing competition show is on these days and laugh at it,” he suggested and Natasha followed him to the living room.

~

Phil called Clint before he left work to tell him he’d be home tonight and was pleasantly surprised to hear that Clint’s old friend Natasha was visiting. Phil was actually pretty excited to meet her since Clint had talked about her every once in a while since the first night they met but she never seemed to be interested in visiting. Clint had met her in college, but Phil didn’t know much else about her. 

After a long few days, Phil was glad Fury had given him the night off. He was exhausted and, no matter how distant he’d felt from Clint lately, he just really wanted to see his face. With Clint’s friend there for a visit, he was almost guaranteed to see Clint smiling and maybe even laughing, and that was something he didn’t even know how much he missed until he felt the overwhelming _need_ to see Clint laugh. 

When Phil got home, he pulled his car into the garage and just sat back in his seat and sighed, settling for a moment before he finally got out of the car. He walked over to the wall of gardening tools hung on hooks and reached into the gap behind the pegboard and pressed the switch that would drop down the compartment under the tool bench. Phil knelt down and removed his gun and holster from his ankle to put in the box. He pushed it up until it clicked back into place and stood up, grabbing his briefcase from the car on his way around the front of the car and to the door leading into the mudroom. 

When he walked into the house, he heard the sound he’d been dying to hear immediately. Clint was laughing in the kitchen along with a feminine tone. “Clint?” he called as he left his briefcase on the floor by the back door – something he never did, he was always prompt about going and taking off his suit and putting his briefcase and suit in their proper places in the bedroom – and loosened his tie as he headed for the kitchen. 

“Oh, Phil! We’re in the kitchen, Honey.” Phil smiled and followed the sound of Clint’s voice. He walked into the kitchen and smiled when he saw Clint turning and wiping his hands on a towel. Phil noticed the small, red haired woman who was tasting something from the pot Clint had on the stove, but he was distracted by Clint walking over and greeting him with a kiss to the cheek. “So, Phil, this is Natasha.” Clint smiled, tugging Phil further into the room by his wrist. “Nat, this is my husband, Phil.”

Natasha turned with a smile already on her face. “Hi, I’m so happy to finally meet-“ Phil’s eyes widened when she turned to face him fully.

It was the Black Widow.

Her smile dropped and her face shut down immediately and he _knew_ she knew who he was, as well. The next word out of her mouth only confirmed it. “Coulson.”

Immediately Phil’s mind went into overdrive. His first thought was that she’d found out where he lived and was there to use Clint to get him to talk, or that she was simply there to kill him, but Clint’s confused, “Huh? What’s wrong, Nat?” reminded him that Clint had talked about his friend Natasha for years, he’d known her long before he met Phil, and clearly, going by her reaction, she was just as surprised to see him a she was to see her. He could only assume that Clint really did meet her in college and the reason she never came to visit was because of her ‘work’ getting in the way. Phil knew it was a serious risk to trust that the Black Widow – who was apparently named Natasha – genuinely cared enough about Clint to not hurt him, but he had no way to get Clint out of here without Clint finding out the truth, and that _would_ put him in danger. He saw her eyes flickering to the large cooking knife between them on the island and he knew that he had to back up and regroup before something went bad and Clint got hurt.

“Uh, you know what? I just remembered I forgot something in the car,” Phil said, turning to peck Clint’s cheek. “I’ll be right back then we can do proper introductions, okay?” 

Clint looked confused. “Sure? Are you okay?” he asked, and Phil slipped into his calm, cool, collected mask and nodded, cupping Clint’s elbow as he turned.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, turning to calmly walk back to the back door. He picked up his briefcase on his way out and pulled out his work phone as soon as he got out to the car. He ever so calmly dropped his briefcase in the car and walked around to get his gun out again. He kept his real gun at work, the one he kept home was simply a ‘just in case’, so he hoped it was enough. 

There was only one ring before Nick answered. “Coulson, talk to me,” he said in a hurry. Phil knew that Nick had to think the sky was falling for Phil to call him directly like that. 

“We have problems,” Phil said, trying to even understand what he was about to say. “I have a spider problem at home,” he said and Nick’s reaction was immediate.

“WHAT?!”

Phil cursed as he grabbed his gun and ignored the holster, simply holding the gun in his hand. He looked back at the door and lowered his voice. “You will never fucking guess who I found myself looking at when my husband introduced me to his old college friend, Natasha,” he hissed.

Nick cursed. “No way. You cannot tell me your husband’s old college friend is the _Black Widow_ -“

“Oh yeah! I know that face, Nick. And she knew me! She started with a ‘hi, nice to meet you’ and then went blank and said ‘Coulson’. I went to the garage with the excuse of getting something from the car before she outs me to him-“

“You left him with her?” Nick asked and Phil rolled his eyes.

“Look, he’s talked about this woman since we met, they’ve been friends for a long time before he met me, and I’ve got to trust that she won’t hurt him because of it. The other option is him finding out who I am when I go in there and _shoot his best friend_ ,” Phil hissed. “If he knows I’m SHIELD, he’ll want answers that will leave him in serious danger. I have to trust that she won’t hurt him. She didn’t expect me, that’s for sure. She clearly had no idea who Clint’s married to-“

“Okay, get out of there. She may not hurt him, but she’d damn well kill you in a heartbeat. Come to the office and we’ll call an emergency meeting,” Nick instructed and Phil sighed but in his heart, he knew it was all they could do.

“Yes, Sir,” he said as he went and got back in his car. As he backed out, he looked up at the house and hoped like crazy that he was making the right call leaving Clint there.

~

Clint frowned when his phone dinged a text notification just as he saw Phil’s car backing out. 

_Emergency meeting called about a drug recall, I’m so sorry about missing dinner with your friend. May not be home tonight._

“Huh, what the hell is going on tonight?” Clint muttered, looking u just in time to see Natasha coming away from the window. “Nat-“

Natasha finally broke her cold, Black Widow mask and grabbed the knife off the counter. “What the fuck are you playing, Clint?!” she demanded, holding the knife up between them. “Was this all some attempt to help _take me out_ -“

“What the fuck, Natasha?!” Clint demanded, backing away some. 

“You’re married to _Coulson_?!” she cried and Clint scoffed.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious-“

Natasha slammed the knife down. “You mean you don’t know?” she said in a hollow tone. “Clint… that man was Coulson.”

Clint stared at her, trying to read a lie in her anywhere. He knew who Coulson was. Coulson was the SHIELD agent all the other assassins talked about like the boogey man. He had been taking down hired guns for years. Sure, they did some of the same work sometimes, but SHIELD didn’t like independent contractors out there. Clint knew Hawkeye was on their radar, but nobody ever saw him, so he didn’t have to worry. Natasha had been approached by SHIELD before and offered a job. When she said no, they put her on the list of people to take out of the equation. There was no way his husband was Coulson. 

“No,” Clint said simply. “Natasha, that’s crazy. Phil is a middle aged pharmaceutical sales rep, not one of the most dangerous and deadly SHIELD agents ever,” he denied. “His name is Phil Smith, for God sake, even his name is boring and suburban-“

She shot him a look. “Smith. As in the most common name ever, usually utilized by those undercover?” she asked, and Clint shook his head.

“Can’t be-“

She tilted her head. “Okay, how about this. Does he have a three inch scar across his left side?” she asked, and Clint stilled instantly. He lifted his head, eyes wide. She nodded grimly. “Ten years ago, I stabbed Coulson when he and his people captured me to try and offer me a job. I stabbed him to get away.”

Clint shook his head. “He- he had surgery-“

“No,” she said simply. “Your husband is Coulson, Clint.” 

Clint slid down the cabinets to sit on the floor. “But I-“

“Actually, that makes sense,” she said suddenly, squatting down in front of him. “He’s gone all the time. Trips with little warning may be realistic for pharmaceutical reps, but that’s what makes it the perfect cover for a SHIELD agent. You live just outside of DC, where the headquarters of SHIELD is, and he has a good fake job to sell it.”

Clint shook his head. “My husband can’t be Coulson. I mean for fucks sake, we met during Holi in India! What SHIELD agent sticks around for Holi?” 

“Coulson is top of the rung,” Natasha said with a shrug. “Maybe top brass get to take vacations?”

Clint looked at his wedding ring. “Shit. What if I was his mission?” he asked weakly. “I was in Mumbai taking out an arms dealer for fifty grand from another arms dealer. What if Hawkeye was a SHIELD target?” He looked up suddenly. “Shit, what if it’s all been some long game?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it,” she said and he looked up. “Hey, you saw his face when he saw me. That was the face of a SHIELD agent rattled,” she said, shaking her head. “I doubt he knows who you are, but he sure as shit knew who I was.” She looked at the window. “I’m surprised he left me here with you.”

Clint shook his head. “SHIELD knows I’m in town, right?” He looked up, swallowing hard. “If he’s Coulson, you know he put two and two together.”

Natasha grimaced. “Well, you know what has to be done, then.”

Clint put his face in his hands. “You need to get out of here. I’ll wait it out. See if he tells me or if he tries to take me out.”

She slapped his shoulder as she stood up. “Well, it’s a good thing your marriage has failed and you’re not that into him anymore. It would suck worse to have to kill him if you loved him still,” she said, and Clint managed a weak smile for her before watching her walk out without a backwards glance. 

Clint swallowed hard, closing his eyes against the stinging in the corners. “Of course I don’t. He’s not the man I married. I definitely don’t love a fucking SHIELD agent,” he whispered to himself. 

Clint figured if he said it enough times, he might start to believe it.

~

Phil burst into the emergency meeting Nick had called and Nick stopped talking and pointed to him. “Okay, moving off of this newest lead, we’ve got a bigger problem-“

“Wait, what is that?” Phil asked, pointing to the screen behind Nick.

Nick turned and glanced, then turned back to Phil. “Oh it’s just a partial photo we got of someone who might be Hawkeye, but you have-“

“Clear the room,” Phil said in a hollow tone, walking closer to the screen. 

Fury eyed him but turned back. “You heard the man, clear the room,” he instructed and the others all exited the room. Phil stared with a tightness in his chest at the three-quarter turn view of the man on the screen. He swallowed hard, realizing suddenly that he was way in over his head. “Coulson, what’s wrong? I thought you had the Black Widow-“

“I think I know why she wouldn’t hurt Clint,” he said weakly. He looked at Nick and nodded to the screen. “You really didn’t notice anything familiar about our prospective Hawkeye?”

He watched as Nick looked at the man with short, dark blonde hair, wide, black goggles, and a cello case in his hand. “Not really, why?”

Phil pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You haven’t seen him in a while, so maybe you’re thinking of the longer hair, but Clint wears his hair short now.” He shook his head. “I recognize the little dip in the top of the ear and that hairline, as well as the set of those shoulders.” 

Nick stilled. “Wait- shit,” he cursed. “Aw fuck, Coulson. Are you telling me the reason the Black Widow is your husband’s old ‘college buddy’ is because you’re MARRIED to Hawkeye?!” He looked back at the photo. “Are you sure, Phil?” he asked in a quiet tone.

Phil stared at the photo of the back of the man’s head and his jaw and ear and nodded. “That’s Clint.”

Fury shook his head solemnly. “Hawkeye and Black Widow are friends, then.” He looked at Phil. “You know if she knew who you were, the minute you were gone, she told him, assuming he didn’t already know.”

Phil shook his head. “Clint has no idea who I am. He’s had eight years to work it out and kill me if he knew. “

“But we have to assume he knows now,” Fury said. “Which means that Hawkeye, the one operative we’ve never managed to get a clear shot of, knows that you know who he is. He knows we’ve got his face, his name, and where he’s been the past eight years.” Nick looked at him with a grim set to his mouth. “And Hawkeye knows me and you.”

Phil looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying, Nick?”

“You know what I’m saying,” he said simply. “If he hasn’t run already, we’ve gotta take him out-“

“That’s the only option you’re giving me?” Phil asked calmly. “We take him out? Just like that?”

Nick shook his head. “It’s what we have to do. Hawkeye knows too much-“

“He’s still my husband,” Phil muttered, looking down at his hands, eyes on his wedding ring. “Nick, he’s my husband-“

“Well it’s a damn good thing you haven’t exactly been happy with your marriage recently,” Nick said gravely. “He has to go-“

“Then let me do it,” Phil interrupted, swallowing hard as he looked up at the photo. “Let me do this alone, Nick. If my husband is Hawkeye and Hawkeye has to die, at least let me do it myself.”

Nick eyed him suspiciously. “ _Can you_ do it?” he asked.

Phil nodded tightly. “I’m giving him the option,” he warned. “I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m going to give him the same option we give them all. But if he refuses, I’ll do what’s necessary.”

Nick shook his head. “Phil, I trust you for almost everything, but killing your own husband-“

“My husband has lied since day one about who he is. Yes, I did the same thing, but it doesn’t change that I’ve been hunting Hawkeye for longer than I’ve been married to Clint, and I am an Agent of SHIELD,” he said firmly, nodding more to himself than Nick. “If I can bring him in, I’m going to bring him in, and I’ll do whatever I have to to get him to make that choice, but if it comes down to it, I can take him out.”

Nick nodded. “I’ll tell the others something else, get them hunting Black Widow again for the next twenty-four hours. Give you some time,” he said and Phil thanked him as he walked out, leaving Phil to stare at his husband – Hawkeye – on the screen.

He took a breath and swallowed hard. “I _can_ do it.”

~

When Phil got home, it was late and only a few houses on the street still had lights on inside. He pulled his car into the garage like normal, just in case for some reason Clint DIDN’T know yet. He had a gun in the back of his jacket in case he did. When he walked in the house, he saw that most of the lights were still on. He drew his gun and held it slightly behind his thigh as he walked through to the hall. He eased around the corner into the kitchen and saw Clint had apparently taken the time to wash dishes. That gave him a little hope that maybe Clint wasn’t waiting with a gun drawn. 

Phil started down the hall towards the stairs, looking into the dining room, office, and living room when he turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked up them. He looked carefully for trip wires or any other sort of traps as he carefully started up the stairs. It was only when he got to the top of the stairs that he spotted a glare and noticed there was a mirror in the corner up above the front door in the entrance hall to show someone coming up the stairs. _Shit_ , he cursed internally when, in the mirror, he saw a quick movement like someone drawing a weapon just above him on the balcony. It was a reflex to turn and fire at the threat, but as soon as he had done so he actually _saw_ Clint.

“Jesus fuck!” Clint cursed, looking pale as he picked himself up from the floor (without any weapon on hand) where he’d dove out of the way of Phil’s shots. “So much for Plan A,” he heard Clint mutter as Clint scrambled towards their bedroom. 

Phil cursed and ran up the last few steps. “Clint, Honey, I get the feeling we should talk-“ His eyes widened when the bedroom door was kicked open from inside and he had about half a second’s warning to dive to the left into the hallway as an arrow sailed right past where his head had just been. Phil rolled to a crouch and pressed himself against the wall, gun drawn and aimed at the corner. He took a shaky breath and let it out because even though he’d known what was likely going to happen, Phil couldn’t believe that Clint – his Clint, the man he married after only three weeks of knowing him – was trying to kill him. He took a shaky breath. “Clint, I don’t want to hurt you,” he called out.

“You shot at me!” Clint called back.

“You just tried to shoot me!” Phil argued.

“Well, yeah, I’m trying to kill you, _Coulson_!” Clint called, and that was it. That was really all there was to it. Phil closed his eyes and steeled himself. There was no bringing Clint in on this one. There was just taking him out. 

Phil stood up and took a deep breath, settling into the headspace of Agent Coulson, Senior Agent of SHIELD. Hawkeye was a target and Phil had no backup on this one-person mission to take out the target. It was kill or be killed, and Phil knew more than most how this game played out. He nodded as he steeled himself against what he was about to do. “I’m sorry to hear that, Hawkeye,” he called out in a bland, ‘agent’ tone. He took two steps towards the corner and stepped out. He fired twice, but Clint must’ve heard him coming because he leapt over the railing of the balcony and dropped neatly to the hall below, rolling when he landed and coming to his feet to run out of Phil’s line of sight. Phil followed quickly, rounding the bottom of the stairs just in time to drop onto his back and side as an arrow skimmed over his head. He raised his gun and fired again, twice before rolling into the living room doorway before Clint could get off another shot.

Phil stood and went around to the door that led into the office from the living room and ducked in, only to duck when a knife flew at his head. “Shit,” he cursed, jumping up to follow as he saw Clint’s heels disappearing around the doorway. He ran after him, gun drawn, and followed him down into the basement. He fire down the stairs, then ran down and ran around the corner to the door to the dark room. He heard a creak and looked up to see a board swinging, but before he could do more than fire blindly, he was hit in the side of the face, knocking him backwards into a box of Christmas decorations. He saw the blurry figure of Clint running past and struggled to get out of the box and follow. It took him a few steps before his head stopped swimming, but it was only when he was already chasing Clint up the stairs that he realized he’d left his gun down in the basement. 

He got up into the hall and looked both ways but didn’t see Clint. He reached down to pull off the snap on his ankle holster and was tackled from behind. They both went rolling into the dining room and Phil came out on top of Clint. He got one punch in before Clint bucked him off and scrambled away. Phil stood up and picked up the chair next to him, throwing it across the room where it hit Clint hard enough to startle a cry of pain out of him as he slammed into the china cabinet and broke the glass with his arm. He staggered away out the door into the kitchen and Phil followed, only to be hit from the side with enough force to make him stagger into the back hall. 

Phil managed to finally draw his gun from his ankle holster and come up just as he was shoved against the wall and found himself staring into Clint’s cold, hardened glare with a knife to his throat. “Shit,” he choked out when he realized the only reason Clint wasn’t slitting his throat was that Phil had instinctively grabbed him by the hair and shoved the gun behind his ear.

Clint’s jaw worked. “Well, Honey, funny predicament we’re in here,” he gritted out, and Phil tilted his head ever so slightly to acknowledge his words. “Knowing your reputation, Coulson, I’m wondering how this is gonna go. If I move to slit your throat, you will pull that trigger and we’ll both be dead,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over Phil’s face.

“And if I pull the trigger, you’ll jerk and cut my throat anyways,” Phil agreed calmly. 

And that’s when it happened.

Clint raised his eyes and, for just a second, the mask slipped and Phil saw _Clint_ behind those cold, blue eyes. For a split second, he could see fear and hurt and everything in it screamed Clint Smith, his husband, not some international assassin called Hawkeye. It was only a second before the doors slammed shut again, but it hit Phil like a bullet to the chest. The man pinning him to the wall, the man he was aiming a gun at, the man who was holding a knife to his throat… it was _Clint_. Phil looked at the same face he’d woke up to more mornings than not for the past eight years and suddenly realized that, the only reason Clint wasn’t dead already wasn’t how good a fighter he was – and he was good, Phil was hurting – but because in the end of all things, Phil couldn’t do it.

No matter how little time they spent together, no matter how little they talked, no matter how long it had been since Phil had felt Clint’s lips against his, this was still the man he’d fallen in love with while taking a small vacation after a mission where, funnily enough, he’d been after someone known to be targeted by Hawkeye to start with. Clint was still the man he’d promised to love for the rest of his life, and things had been boring lately, but never once had Phil stopped loving him.

The realization really struck him. He had _never_ stopped loving Clint, not even for a little while. He glanced at the gun in his own hand and the barrel pressed behind Clint’s ear and tried to picture it going off and there was no way to picture it because Phil knew he’d never actually do it. He couldn’t. For the first time ever, Phil was well and truly defenseless.

Phil let his mask finally fall and he closed his eyes to swallow hard as he slowly lowered the gun. He felt Clint tense, clearly confused, and he simply let the gun drop from his hands. “What are you playing at?” Clint growled, and Phil opened his eyes, giving up entirely on hiding his emotions. If he was going to die, at least it was going to be at the hands of someone he knew. He might not know Clint as well as he thought he did, but he _knew_ him. He knew Clint’s heart and knew that Clint was worthy of being the one to kill him if anybody out there ever could be. “What the fuck are you doing?” Clint demanded

Phil smiled softly. “I can’t do it,” he said simply. He swallowed, looking up as he felt the blade pressing closer to his throat. “Just- just do it. Once you do, you need to get out of here fast, though,” he said hoarsely. “Go to my mother’s grave. There’s a false compartment in the flower container at the grave. In the back, you’ll find a false ID and a passport for you. There’s also some cash. Not much, about a thousand, but it’ll be enough to get out of here. I got twenty-four hours to deal with you, after that, SHIELD will be after you.” He looked back to Clint’s eyes. “Don’t dawdle, because you won’t get an option to surrender once I’m dead, you’ll just be killed.”

Clint growled and slammed Phil against the wall harder. “What the fuck are you even talking about-“

“Just do what I said and get out,” Phil said, smiling sadly. “It’s okay, Clint-“

“What are you playing at, what kind of a trick is this?!” Clint demanded.

Phil shook his head, wincing when he felt the blade barely break the skin. “No tricks. I just can’t hurt you, Clint.” He saw Clint’s jaw work and he closed his eyes. “Go ahead.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Clint gritted out. Phil looked back to see Clint’s face full of anger. “Fucking fight back!”

“No, Clint-“ Clint slammed his head into the wall, knife digging just a little deeper so that a small amount of blood slid down his skin. 

“FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARD!” Clint screamed, and Phil swallowed hard as he realized just how hard Clint was struggling. Clint let out a growl. “Why are you doing this?” he hissed.

Phil smiled shakily, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Clint, I fell in love with you when my lips were still purple from the blue and pink dust on your face.” He shook his head slightly, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Clint. “I can’t bring myself to kill my own husband, no matter what you do to me. So go ahead.” He looked from one of Clint’s eyes to the other. “Just remember what I said about getting out safely, okay? Don’t let SHIELD get you-“

“Oh fuck you, fuck _you_ ,” Clint choked out, tears filling his eyes. He pressed the knife harder, moving like he was going to finally do it, but after only a moment he let out a yell of frustration and rage and, just as he let out a weak sob, dropping the knife. He collapsed against Phil’s chest, hands fisting in his jacket. “Fuck you so fucking hard, you motherfucking lying bastard,” he growled, lifting his head to look at Phil.

Phil blinked against the burning at the corners of his eyes and laughed wetly. “I could say the same about you,” he accused, but instead of continuing or letting Clint argue, he curled his hand around the side of Clint’s neck and jaw and dragged him into rough, almost violent kiss instead. Clint growled against his mouth and dragged his hands down Phil’s chest, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, making Phil whine in pain and pulled back just long enough for Clint to grab Phil’s shirt and yank it open, buttons flying everywhere. Phil let Clint shove his shirt and jacket off his shoulders, and as soon as it was off after some ripping to get his hands free, he shoved Clint up against the opposite wall and grabbed the hem of his shirt, shoving it up Clint’s body. He couldn’t help an almost guttural groan as he pressed Clint against the wall and ducked down, kissing and biting a trail down his chest, pausing to suck hard on his nipple, remembering how sensitive Clint’s were, unlike his own. 

“Phil!” Clint panted, and Phil was yanked up by a hand in the back of his hair so that Clint could kiss him again. Phil fumbled with Clint’s jeans for only a second before controlling the shaking of his hands and undoing the button and zipper deftly. Clint scrabbled to do the same for Phil while Phil tried to back them towards some form of flat surface, but by the time Phil’s pants were undone, Clint reaching his hand down them was just enough to kill Phil’s balance, so when his heel caught on the hall rug, the both tumbled onto the floor in a heap. Phil grunted at the impact of being slammed between the wood floor and Clint’s weight, but Clint just went with it, rocking their hips together. 

Phil rolled them over and pushed Clint’s arms up over his head, looking down at Clint’s tear-streaked face, pinning him with his weight. Clint looked up at him, looking so hurt and vulnerable it made something in Phil’s chest ache. He shoved his and Clint’s pants both further down their thighs, eyes still locked with Clint’s as he spoke soft words of affection to him. When he kissed Clint and rolled their hips together, erections sliding past each other, Clint arched his back, moaning in a way that was so much more beautiful than Phil remembered it being. He slid his hands down Clint’s arms and, when Clint reached down to grip Phil’s hips, he braced himself with his elbows, bracketing Clint’s head in his hands as he kissed him so hard and slow, trying to pour every ounce of emotion into the kiss he could. “I love you,” he whispered, moving his lips to brush against Clint’s eyelid as he slid his hand to wipe away the tears from his cheeks. “I’ll always love you, Clint, always,” he promised, and Clint let out a whimper, clutching at Phil’s side as he thrust up against him, arching his back and letting his head fall back.

“Phil,” he gasped, voice breaking. “God, Phil,” he whimpered, eyes flying wide as Phil reached between them, curling a hand around their erections. “ _Phil_!” he choked out, grabbing at Phil’s hip and shoulder, fingertips digging in. He whimpered and turned his head, catching Phil’s mouth to kiss him hard. “Phil, Phil, Phil,” he panted between kisses, and Phil couldn’t get enough of the how beautiful Clint looked beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, so fucking beautiful.” Phil kissed down his jaw and throat. “So beautiful, Clint. So perfect. I love you so much.”

Clint cried sharply. “Love you, love you, too, oh fuck, Phil, love you so much,” he babbled with increasing urgency before Phil bit down against his throat and Clint let out a shout as he came, body jerking against Phil as he gasped out Phil’s name in pleasure. “PHIL!”

Phil was only a few strokes behind Clint, letting out a sharp grunt of, “Clint!” as he too reached his climax, his release spilling all over Clint’s belly only a moment later than Clint had. 

It took a few moments for them both to catch their breath, but eventually Phil moved away from Clint. He reached for his ruined shirt and dragged it over to clean off his hand and belly. He handed it to Clint, who cleaned himself off and lazily lobbed the shirt over his shoulder before collapsing back onto his back. He wiggled his underwear and jeans back up, but didn’t bother buttoning his jeans, leaving them to hang open. Phil kicked off his shoes and suit pants and leaned back against the wall in his boxers and dress socks, still panting some. He looked at Clint, who sat up on his elbows, looking at him hopefully, and offered him a smile. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.

Clint looked so relieved as he shuffled over and leaned against the wall beside Phil, but Phil reached out and pulled Clint into his arms, pulling Clint’s legs across his lap and curling his arms around Clint’s body, holding him close. Clint sighed and tucked his head into Phil’s neck. “Phil… what do we do?” he asked softly. He lifted his head, looking to Phil’s face. “Where do we go from here?” He reached up and curled his hand around Phil’s cheek, looking into his eyes. 

Phil chuckled with a sheepish smile. “Well, to start with, I think we both kind of owe each other some serious explanations,” he said and Clint groaned.

“Okay, just to be perfectly clear… you didn’t marry me to keep tabs on me, right?” Clint asked, and Phil shook his head.

“No, I married you because I was crazy in love with a ridiculously beautiful, insanely young crazy person who, for some reason, found my old ass worth keeping,” he answered and Clint laughed softly.

“Shut up,” he said, touching his cheek. “You’re not old now, you weren’t old when I met you.” He smiled. “I promise I didn’t know who you were either.”

Phil hummed. “I figured you didn’t since you took my name when we got married,” he said and Clint huffed and hit him on the chest lightly.

“You’re an incredible asshole for that, by the way,” he complained. “You let me _legally change my name_ to your NOT last name!” he accused.

Phil held up a hand. “What the hell was I going to tell you that wouldn’t make you A) leave me, B) wonder if I was in witness protection?” he defended. “I couldn’t say ‘don’t take my last name, I don’t want you to’ without sounding like I didn’t want you to really be married to me or something.”

Clint shook his head. “My name is Clint Smith – one hundred percent legally – and my husband’s real last name isn’t Smith,” he said flatly. “Do you know how much that sucks? I only took your last name because I wanted us to have the same last name and had no real attachment to mine. Now my name is _Smith_ because my husband used a fake name when he married me.” He frowned. “Wait, are we even legally married since you lied about your last name?” he asked, and Phil chortled.

“Yes, we’re legally married.” He bit his lip, looking sheepish. “SHIELD has a department for that, you’re actually legally married to Phillip Coulson, the Phillip Smith marriage license isn’t valid.”

Clint groaned. “I’m actually almost more angry at this than I am about the fact you tried to shoot me earlier, Phil, that’s how bummed this makes me.”

Phil’s eyes lost their laughter. “Clint, I wasn’t really trying to shoot you the first one. I know it seems like it, but it’s like a reflex to turn and fire when it looks like someone’s drawing a weapon behind my back, and in that mirror, it looked like you were. As soon as I realized you weren’t armed, I felt like shit.”

Clint sighed heavily. “I hoped you didn’t know. I hoped so hard that even if you knew about Natasha, you didn’t know about me.”

“I almost didn’t,” Phil said. “When I saw the Black Widow in my kitchen, I called it in and Nick told me to come in-“

“Wait, _Nick_?! Your manager?” Clint asked, and Phil winced.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said-“ Clint glared and he sighed. “He’s the Director of SHIELD-“

“HOLY SHIT!” Clint cried. “I’ve had the DIRECTOR of SHIELD over for dinner?” He hesitated. “Well, that shouldn’t be shocking. I’m married to the SHIELD boogeyman,” he said and Phil snickered.

“Nick called an emergency meeting, but when I got there he was using the time to show them a photograph they got of the back of what they suspected was Hawkeye’s head,” Phil continued.

Clint groaned. “God dammit. I never get caught. This is why I avoided working where I live-“

“I was the only one who knew,” Phil said. “Even Nick didn’t recognize you. It was the back of your head, but I know your ears and shoulders,” he said, reaching out to tap his ear and the little dip in the top that sold him out.

Clint looked at him worriedly. “I thought you guys were friends. He was going to make you take out your own husband?”

Phil shook his head. “I asked that he let me do it,” he said and Clint frowned. “I wasn’t going to take you out if I didn’t have to,” he said, then chuckled. “And obviously, even when I had to, I couldn’t do it.” He stroked Clint’s cheek. “If you had to be killed, I wanted to do it. I didn’t trust anybody else not to fuck it up and make you suffer more than you had to.”

Clint glared. “Oh yeah, quick and less painless is so romantic,” he said and Phil shrugged.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me kill you, but when you called me Coulson and came after me with a bow, I knew it was over. I had no choice,” he said and Clint sighed, dropping his head to Phil’s shoulder.

“What happens now that you didn’t kill me?” Clint asked. “Is someone else going to come finish the job?”

Phil curled their fingers together. “He gave me until tomorrow night to get the job done, so nobody will come after you for at least another twenty hours if you decide to run.” He closed his eyes, kissing Clint’s hair. “If you go, I won’t follow, I won’t help them, and I will do everything I can to make sure they never find you.”

Clint sucked in a sharp breath. “You- you mean leave you?” he asked, looking up suddenly. “If I run, you won’t come with me?” he asked fearfully.

Phil chuckled weakly. “I can’t. I’m chipped.” He tapped his neck. “Where it’s at, only a neurosurgeon can get it without risking paralysis. Running isn’t an option for the third-highest ranking SHIELD agent.” He saw Clint’s breath quicken and he shook his head. “Hey, no, don’t freak out-“

“But I can’t leave you,” Clint gritted out. “Fuck, I think I proved pretty fucking well how much I love you when I couldn’t kill you even to save my own life, you think I can just leave you?” he demanded.

“There’s really only one option besides that, Clint,” Phil said softly. He stroked Clint’s cheek, looking at his lips. “The first choice, before killing you, was bringing you in.”

“You’ll let SHIELD just arrest me?” Clint asked, frowning.

Phil nodded. “But not like that. It’s the same choice we give everybody that might be useful. Work for us, go to prison, or die.” He looked at Clint. “I’m best friends with the Director and third in command, Clint. You won’t be harmed, you won’t be harassed, and you’ll be treated better than any other operative we’ve ever brought in. If you let me take you in and work out a deal to become an Agent of SHIELD, everything will be straightened out. It means giving up some independence, but you and I will stay undercover and Phil and Clint Smith and nothing will change besides your employer.”

Clint sighed heavily. “What happens if I talk to them about working for SHIELD and they want me to do things I don’t want to do?” he asked. He looked up and shook his head. “I don’t kill anybody I don’t think deserves to be dead. I will not kill someone who doesn’t deserve it. I can’t do it.”

Phil looked him in the eyes to see if there was any shred of a lie in there, and sighed in relief. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, Clint.” He kissed him gently. “I can’t say that I share the same reservations, I have always followed orders, but at least you’re not just some mindless killing machine.”

Clint smiled sadly. “I used to be. But I couldn’t do it anymore. The guilt got to me.”

Phil nodded. “There had to be two shooters for the Senator Greene assassination. You?” he asked, and Clint nodded.

“Oh yeah, that bastard totally deserved it. Nat was getting paid big, that’s why she did it, but when she needed help and offered to cut me in it was on contest.” Phil raised an eyebrow and Clint glowered. “He raped an eighteen year old kid and didn’t even get publically accused for it.”

Phil made a disgusted sound. “Bastard.”

Clint nodded. “The only thing I hate more than a rapist is a child abuser, and eighteen is close enough for me,” he said with a bitter edge to his ton. Phil gave him a curious look and Clint swallowed hard. “We can talk about our real pasts somewhere more comfortable than this floor,” he said, and Phil nodded and let him stand up. He offered Phil a hand and pulled him up, both of them chuckling when they looked at each other’s state of undress. “You know, we haven’t had sex in over a year, and then when we finally get around to screwing, it’s after beating the shit out of each other. Clearly we have some issues,” Clint said, touching the bruises on Phil’s face.

Phil winced. “Wow, was it really a _year_?” he asked, grabbing up his clothes as Clint headed into the kitchen.

“Yep, last anniversary,” Clint called as Phil passed him to go to the laundry room and toss his clothes in a pile to probably be thrown away, since that suit didn’t seem salvageable going by the smudges of blood on it. When Phil got back to the kitchen, Clint was digging stuff to make sandwiches out of the refrigerator.

Phil walked up behind him and grabbed him around the middle, kissing his shoulder as he squeezed him tight. “Never again, okay? Never, ever going a whole year without making love to you okay?” he promised and Clint laughed sharply when Phil slapped his ass as he let him go.

“Well, I have hopes that if our love has survived trying to kill each other, maybe we can actually stop hiding shit from each other,” Clint said, giving Phil a hopeful smile. “Maybe we’d actually talk more if we could tell the truth more.”

Phil smiled warmly, nodding. “I hope so.” He reached out and slid his hand down Clint’s back. “I know things have been… well, boring,” he said, wincing. “But it’s so hard to be married to the love of my life and never get to say anything I want to because I have to worry about him catching me in a lie,” he said openly.

Clint nodded. “I know, Phil.” He leaned over and kissed him sweetly. “Hell, I almost for a minute believed I could convince myself I didn’t love you anymore so it would be easier to kill you when you tried to take me out.” He looked up and met Phil’s worried gaze. “But you’re my husband,” he said simply and Phil couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across his face. Clint grinned at Phil’s dopey smile and slid him the loaf of bread. “Come on, neither of us ate dinner. Midnight snack and then, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got some lumps and scrapes that probably need some first aid,” he said and Phil chuckled.

“Yeah, you throw a hell of a punch, Honey,” he said and Clint leaned over to kiss his black eye gently in apology.

~

Later, after giving up on cleaning up all the damage they had done and deciding to wait for later, they helped each other apply bandages and ointments to various cuts and injuries, which only lead to kisses and touches that led to Phil pushing Clint up against the bathroom door and dropping to his knees for him.

After thoroughly examining every inch of each other’s bodies ‘for wayward injures’, Phil and Clint fell into bed, exhausted and feeling closer than they had in years, in spite of their lingering fears and hurt from each other’s lies. Clint lifted his head from Phil’s chest long enough to look up at his face. Phil raised a sleepy eyebrow and Clint shifted some. “So, there’s one more thing that I have to know before I let you bring me in,” he said and Phil nodded. Clint bit his lip. “I won’t give information on Natasha,” he said softly. “The fact you know her name is Natasha is too much already.”

Phil sighed. “I’ll try to get that into the deal, but Clint… she’s one of our top targets. If Fury wants information-“

“Then he’ll have to kill me,” Clint said simply. He smiled sadly. “Phil, I love you with all my heart, but I’ve known Natasha since I was in my early twenties. She helped me out of a tight spot when I got fucked over by some of my early employers. She is my best friend, she’s more like family than my actual brother, and I won’t sell her out.”

Phil frowned. “Wait, you have a brother?” he asked, and Clint narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you if you don’t tell Nick information on her, I’ll do what I can,” he promised. “Now what was that about a brother?”

Clint grimaced. “Somewhere out there, I probably still have a brother,” he corrected. Phil watched him and Clint sighed. “My past is all fabricated. Every bit of it. Nothing I told you about me is true. I’m not even from Virginia, I just lived here when I met you.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Oh great, your entire life story is fake. I just lied about my name and my parents’ names,” he said and Clint looked away. “Hey,” Phil said softly, sitting up some to cup his cheek and pull him back. “I’m joking. It’s okay that you lied. I lied about my _name_ ,” he said.

Clint curled into Phil’s chest, arm going tight around his middle. “I’m from Iowa,” he started, face hidden from Phil’s face. “My parents were killed in a car crash, that part is true, but it wasn’t when I was twenty-two, it was when I was eight. My older brother, Barney, and I were abused.” Phil’s hands flinched on his arm and hip. “That’s why I hate child abusers more than anything. My parents… they both beat the shit out of each other, but sometimes they’d beat the shit out of me and Barney when they got tired of it. They were junkies, so they were always high, really. One of the reasons I don’t drink that much is because I’m always worried if I get drunk enough, I’ll act like my parents did when they were high.” He swallowed hard. “I’d have never forgiven myself if I ever hit you, Phil,” he said weakly. “I mean, obviously tonight notwithstanding, since we were kinda fighting to the death,” he added and Phil chuckled softly but kissed his hair.

“I can forgive you if you can forgive me for that one,” he said and Clint nodded. “Where is your brother now?” Phil asked.

Clint deflated some. “When we were little still, I was ten and he was twelve, we ran away from the orphanage and joined a circus-“

“Oh no you didn’t,” Phil dismissed and Clint chuckled and nodded looking up at him.

“Yep, swear on my wedding band,” Clint said and Phil just eyed him as if he was pulling his leg. “Swear it,” he said, kissing Phil sweetly. “It’s where I learned to use a bow and throw knives.”

Phil laughed in disbelief. “My life is getting so fucking weird tonight” he said and Clint nodded.

“You can see why I fabricated a backstory,” he said and Phil smiled in amusement. Clint stroked a hand trough Phil’s chest hair. “But yeah, my brother and I joined a circus. I stayed until I was sixteen.”

Phil frowned. “What about your brother? You make it sound like you left alone?”

Clint looked away again. “When- when I was sixteen my mentor, the one who taught me how to shoot, he-“ He swallowed hard, grip tightening n Phil. “He raped me,” he whispered and Phil went as still as a statue, tensed like he was about to jump up. “He was drunk and said he was shocked I’d grown up so ‘pretty’ since I’d been a gangly kid and he held me down and fucking raped me on the fucking ground in our tent.” He shook his head, voice dripping with hatred as he spoke again. “When he got off of me, I grabbed the first thing I could, one of the juggling pins for the clowns, and I swung it at his head as hard as I could and the blow killed him,” he spat. “When my brother came into the tent I was curled up in the corner crying and that bastards body was lying across the tent and Barney asked what the fuck I did and I thought-“ Clint stopped and laughed bitterly. “I thought Barney would be angry and worried for me when I told him what that fucker did to me, but Barney was just pissed I jeopardized our spot in the circus so, he beat the shit out of me.”

“Holy shit,” Phil breathed, sounding horrified. 

Clint nodded. “He dragged me out of the tent when I was unconscious and just left me in the field when they all packed up and left. Nobody saw me since I was in a ditch. The kids that found me thought I was a corpse. The nurses said I got brought in around noon the next day from what I remember, so I laid there all night. Nearly bled to death between how bad I was bleeding from being raped and how bad I was bleeding from my brother beating me.”

Phil’s hand clenched in the covers and when he spoke, Clint couldn’t help but look up in surprise at the anger in Phil’s voice. “What’s your brother’s name?” he growled, looking livid. “If he isn’t dead, he will be,” he said and Clint managed a small smile.

“Not worth the trouble. That was over twenty years ago-“

“Bullshit,” Phil grunted, dragging Clint into his arms “Oh my God, Clint,” he whispered, kissing his face all over. “I swear to fucking God I want to kill your brother and resurrect that bastard that raped you and kill him slowly and more painfully.”

Clint chuckled bitterly, a tear leaking from his eyes. “Now that I’d definitely love to do,” he said, and Phil swiped away the tear on his cheek. “So yeah, rapists and child abusers,” he said softly. “I’d kill them without being paid if somebody pointed them out to me.” He slumped against Phil’s chest. 

“After I got out of the hospital, the circus was long gone, I didn’t have any money, I hadn’t been in school in years, just shit learned through experience, and I couldn’t get a job or afford to live. But I did know how to shoot and use a knife. It wasn’t my intention to get into murder for hire, but I was stealing shit to live off of and sold stolen goods to gang members all the time. One day this guy offered me big money to take out this guy that had capped the wrong person or some shit and I figured ‘why not’?” He shook his head. “By the time I was twenty, I was being hired for big time hits. Husbands who wanted their wives out of the equations, business men wanting the competition on ice, all of it. I got into international big time shit by accident and got fucked over. That’s why I met Natasha. She helped me out of that bind and I ended up getting into more refined shit. In my mid-twenties the guilt got to be too much, though.”

Phil kissed his hair. “That’s when you set requirements on targets?”

Clint nodded. “Obviously they’re not all as easy as a rapist or something, but slum lords, big cartel leaders, people running cons, that sorta thing. General ‘not a good person’ stuff.”

Phil chuckled softly. “What did Samir Kapoor do that made him ‘not a good person’ enough for your standards?” he asked curiously and Clint laughed.

“The man I killed the day before we met. Can’t believe you remember his name,” he said, shaking his head. “If I’m not mistaken, his household cleaning staff was made up of child slaves,” he said and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Damn.”

Clint eyed him. “You knew that was Hawkeye?” he asked and Phil shook his head.

“Not until I realized you’re Hawkeye and he was already dead when I showed up at his office and it cut my trip short so I could enjoy Holi.” He smiled playfully. “You killing that guy is the reason I met you. Funny, huh?”

Clint chuckled. “Aww, you weren’t there hunting down Hawkeye then?” he teased.

Phil shrugged and made a dismissive face. “Nah, I was there to kill Kapoor, too,” he said, and Clint raised an eyebrow. Phil smirked. “You did my job for me. He was dealing weapons and wouldn’t come to a compromise with SHIELD about it.”

Clint hummed and stretched, relaxing in Phil’s arms. “We’re a hell of a story, huh?” He smiled sleepily up into Phil’s eyes. “We met because we were trying to assassinate the same billionaire and happened to run into each other at a Holika celebration, fell in love in a matter of days, moved in together a week after we met, and got married two weeks after that.” He shook his head. “We’ve lived eight years of lies, tried to kill each other earlier tonight, and yet somehow, here we are. Lying in bed together.”

Phil kissed him tenderly, making Clint shiver some as he stroked a finger down his jaw. “And in spite of all the lies, in spite of all the ways I’ve hurt you and you’ve hurt me, in spite of a year of living like roommates more than husbands, I honestly think I love you more right now than I ever have before,” he murmured against his lips.

Clint smiled, looking up at him with unconcealed affection. “I’m still pissed about so much, and I know you are, too, and we still have so much to talk about, but I think having you hold a gun to my head and then drop your scary agent façade and refuse to defend yourself made me realize that, no matter what, you _love_ me.” He curled his hand around Phil’s cheek. “And I love you just as much as I did then I got to the lobby of that hotel and knew I couldn’t leave you. I knew the second I stepped out of the elevator and felt like my heart was going to break that I never wanted to leave you, Phil.” He shook his head. “Finding out who you really are doesn’t change that you’re _my husband_.”

Phil pulled Clint closer and hugged him tightly, like he was afraid someone would try and take Clint away from him. “I am your husband.” He kissed his hair. “I will always be your husband.”

Clint smiled sleepily and nuzzled closer. “Good, cause I don’t want to have to get married a third time.”

Phil hummed and settled in. It was only almost a whole minute later that his eyes shot open. “Wait, _what_?!”

~

Clint had to admit, he was kind of scared to let Phil just walk him right into SHIELD, but nobody else seemed to know who he was, so they didn’t give him a second glance. Nick took one look at them when they walked into the office and raised an eyebrow at the bandage on Phil’s throat, the black eye he was sporting, and the bruises on Clint’s face. “Do I wanna know?” he asked.

Phil cleared his throat. “Sort of walked into Plan B and had to wind down into Plan A, Sir.”

Nick chuckled and looked at Clint. He shook his head. “Cannot believe I’ve had dinner in _Hawkeye’s_ dining room and didn’t know it.” 

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Imagine finding out you’ve been sleeping next to someone with a target on your back.”

Phil bit back a smile and turned to Fury. “Sir, I’d like permission to keep an eye on him as he goes through debriefing and intake,” he said and Fury raised an eyebrow.

“And if I don’t give you permission?” he asked.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll ignore you and do it anyway, Nick.” Fury raised an eyebrow. “Hey, SHIELD has plenty of operatives that have been made to look foolish when tracking Hawkeye. I’m not risking some level six with an inferiority complex attacking my husband. He’s not staying on site, he’s not going through these first few days without me being sure he’s going to be safe, and he has some stipulations SHIELD _will_ acquiesce to.”

Fury sighed. “It couldn’t be simple, could it? Of course not, you married him and you’re the most complicated bastard I know,” he grumbled and Clint bit his lip to keep from snickering. “Fine. You can accompany him for all the debriefing and intake, and I will consider his stipulations-“

“No, you will approve them,” Phil prompted and Fury glared. “Look, it’s this or I help him run where SHIELD won’t ever find him, and if I have to help him run, I can’t go with him, meaning I will _ruin your life_ , Nick,” he threatened, though Clint could see the playful glint in his eyes and he knew Fury could as well. 

Fury chuckled. “Whatever happened to ‘my marriage is boring’ just the other day, Phil?” he asked and Phil shrugged casually.

“Something tells me no more living double lives will help with the whole ‘communication’ thing,” he answered and Clint gave him a loving look.

“You’re unbelievable, Coulson,” Fury said, then grabbed his phone. Someone on the other in picked up and he spoke. “Agent Coulson is coming down with a new operative coming in out of the cold. Standard intake and debrief. Agent Coulson will be personally observing the proceedings, so make sure you don’t embarrass yourself,” he said, then hung up. He looked at them both the gestured to the door. “Well? Get your asses out of my office,” he said and Phil nodded politely.

“Thank you, Director Fury,” he said, and Clint gave him a nod as well.

“Yeah, yeah, go bother somebody else, Coulson,” he called after them as they walked out.

Phil glanced at Clint and gestured to the left, walking so that Clint fell into step beside him. “So, scale of one to ten, how much am I not gonna like the next few days?” Clint asked, and Phil made a face.

“Eh, I’d say about a six. Most people get the full ten, but I seem to make people uncomfortable so they’ll go easy on you. Mostly just the biggest interrogation with the incredibly random questions of ‘where were you on January third, nineteen ninety seven’ and invasive ones like ‘what color is your favorite underwear’.” He smirked. “I’ll try not to glare at the interrogators face when you answer ‘none’ and they envision you naked,” he murmured and Clint grinned, bumping their shoulders together. 

“So if somebody uses the physical as an excuse to feel me up, will you punch ‘em?” he teased and Phil rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, that’s nothing compared to extra paperwork-“

“Barton?!” A woman’s voice asked suddenly, cutting Phil off mid-sentence. He looked as they passed a strike team coming in and saw Agent Morse staring at Clint in surprise. 

Phil looked at Clint, who looked incredibly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Oh, uh Bobbi. Hi,” he said weakly, waving with an awkward smile. 

Phil glanced at Morse then mouthed ‘Bobbi?’ to Clint, who grimaced. “Agent Morse,” Phil greeted and she finally seemed to notice Phil. 

“Sir!” she said in surprise, clearing her throat. “Uh- good to see you joining the good guys, Barton,” she said and he nodded awkwardly.

“Didn’t expect to see you had joined them either, Bobbi,” he said, then cleared his throat and gestured. “Phil’s just taking me to a thing, so I should probably-“

“Of course,” Morse said, nodding to Phil. “Agent Coulson, Sir,” she said, then turned and ran to catch up with her team.

Clint looked back at Phil, who raised an eyebrow. “Uh, soo…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember the whole ‘married once before’ thing?” he started and Phil actually crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Clint waved a hand over his shoulder. “Back in my mid-twenties, for a year. Uh, Bobbi Morse- Barbara, rather.” He sighed heavily and deflated. “Oh God, I have a _type_ ,” he realized and Phil couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head in amusement.

“Only I could end up marrying the one assassin in the world whose ex is also a secret agent for my organization.” Phil saw how uncomfortable Clint looked and bumped shoulders with him as they started walking again. “Hey, don’t worry about it, I’m not the jealous type,” he said, smirking. “And since I’m a level eight, if she starts rumors about us, I can have her reassigned to Norway,” he said with a small, smug grin.

Clint snorted and laughed. “Oh yeah, not jealous my ass.” He casually slung his arm around Phil’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Honey, I’m your husband forever. You’re never getting rid of me,” he said with an easy smile.

Phil didn’t even try to hide the way the words affected him as he glanced Clint’s way. “Yeah, I’m pretty okay with that.”


End file.
